Here
I dance, on my gross little stage…
a frail, pale, little
porcelain doll.
The strings binding me never gone,
Never cut free.
Give
me a soul! "Never…" is your response without remorse,
Make me feel.
Give me a life!
Make me
real.
And
only pull my twisted, frayed strings Give me freedom! But you only
shake your head solemnly,
harder with your bony
fingertips,
making me dance on my little stage,
to the sound
of your broken lips.
Undo the
strings.
Give me a voice!
Allow me to sing.
Not wanting to lose your plaything.
Here
I hang, all tattered and limp,
a frail, pale, little porcelain
doll.
The strings that bind me never gone,
Never
cut free.
